


Love Songs are so Cliche, But I'll Write you One Anyway

by TwentyOneIdjits



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe- High School, Alternate Universe- Teenagers, Bullying, Cute, Destiel - Freeform, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluffy, High School AU, I have plans for this, M/M, basically love at first sight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-09
Updated: 2016-02-09
Packaged: 2018-05-19 11:33:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5965897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwentyOneIdjits/pseuds/TwentyOneIdjits
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel Novak was fifteen when his hyper-religious family kicked him out for being gay, and he's been on his own since then. He goes to school and works a job to pay for his tiny apartment, filled with books and garage sale finds. Only two beacons of light shine through the mundane and miserable that composes his life: a tiny little graffitied nook by the Potomac river and his breathtakingly beautiful singing voice, which no one but himself had ever heard. Then one day Dean Winchester quite literally stumbles into his life, and everything changes. Both boys in impossibly tough situations, they draw hope, strength, love, and self confidence from one another.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Updated regularly, the beginning is long but Dean comes quickly

I leaned my back against the hard rock, feeling it's cold edges cutting into me through my thick jacket. 

A tired and complacent sigh escaped my lips as I tilted my head up to look at the sky, a dull grey devoid of the color and stars that usually adorned it. 

My eyelids closed, deciding the darkness of their interior and the quiet it provided was preferable to the view before me. The dull bridge and jagged city skyline was a familiar and welcome view, but no longer captivating after all of these years.   
A peaceful tranquility filled me as it usually did when I sat on these rocks, and i opened my mouth. 

"Will you please put your hand in mine" I began. It echoed off the quiet water and joined with the muffled noises of faraway cars passing the bridge. "Before I leave the final time" my voice grew stronger. My voice. My instrument, my only consolation. I remember singing since the beginning, like breathing. I didn't question it, and it came naturally. But it came in dark closets and empty rooms and places where I could be sure no one would hear me, shy as I am. 

The thought of another human hearing my voice sent shivers down my spine and blush into my cheeks.   
So, per usual, the river and graffitied rocks were my silent audience as I endeavored in my own kind of therapy- singing. The bullshit of life seemed to fade, leaving me with the words of the slow song and escaping for good. 

"Will you please" I continued before I was interrupted by a foreign noise.   
There was a shuffle of feet and the sound of an exclamation "CRAP!"

The words weren't mine, but rather came from a boy who stumbled down the rocks to the one I was on, catching his feet and grounding his falling body as he ran his fingers through his hair. 

My eyes opened and widened as my mind raced. 

How long has he been here? Why is he here? No ones ever here. These thoughts flashed through my mind in a haze of panic. 

My heart skipped several beats, but I wasn't sure why. The obvious explanation would be the paralyzing thought that ran through my head- 'had he heard me sing?'   
But the only explanation I could offer was the fact that his eyes had made contact with mine, eyes greener than the bright paint that was unceremoniously sprayed on the rocks behind him, greener than the vines that crept in the cracks of the rock, but with hints of warm honey and deeper than the river before me. 

"I....." I began, determined to say something intelligent or at least understandable but failing. 

"I'm so sorry man" he began, no doubt taking my hesitation for anger. "I was just having a crap day and I saw the 'no trespassing' sign and I thought, well, that'd be a private place to blow off steam and then I came down here and I could have sworn I heard an angel singing but it was just you and I'm so sorry I watched you and..." His apology was one big run on sentence, his voice trying to cram out the words quickly.   
The blood rushing in my cheeks no doubt made me similar in complexion to a tomato, but I merely shrugged, trying to blow off the fact that someone had heard me. And they enjoyed my voice. 

"Hi" my timid voice came out, mangled by fear. 

"Hi" he says quickly, sharing my fear. "I'm sorry"

"And I'm Castiel" I said playfully, words leaving my mouth without permission 

"Dean" he said, shoving his hands into his jacket pocket, the action of someone who was expecting some sort of punishment. 

"So, Dean" I tried out, feeling the word roll off my tongue "What gave you such a crap day you felt the need to trespass on private property?" I asked, grinning at him. 

"I could ask you the same thing", he returned, taking my word as an invitation and sitting down cautiously next to me, a few feet away. 

"Oh no" I said, gesturing to the area around me. "This is my normal hangout. It's my..." I searched for the right words "second home" 

"Sorry for invading your home then" he offered shyly. "Your actual home not good enough?" 

I could see as soon as his words escaped his mouth he regretted them, clamping his lips down and casting his beautiful eyes to the painted cliff below him. 

"I'm on my own" I began cautiously. "And I don't relish the empty apartment. At least here with the city and the cars I get to feel like I'm part of something." Immediately I understood the feeling of regretting words. 

"You're on your own? You can't be more than..." 

"16" I filled in for him. 

"You don't have anyone?" 

I bit my lip and refused eye contact. I couldn't tell him, tell him that while my blood lived my family didn't, in its concept. That the chose religious beliefs over their own family. I felt a bit of moisture tug at my eyes and a small lump develop in the back of my throat. 

I didn't say anything. 

"I only have one person, if that makes you feel better" he said. "My brother, Sammy. My moms dead and my dad just left one day. Not that it was much of a loss, he was never much of a father figure" he trailed off, playing with a strand of his hair. 

While his stunning eyes were what caught my attention at first I came to realize how beautiful the rest of him was too, dark honey hair held between nimble fingers and sharp jawline, High cheekbones and an aura that surrounded him that hinted at power despite his worn leather jacket and tired eyes. 

"I'm sorry" I offered into the still air. 

"Don't be" 

The silence after that lasted for about an hour, but was not uncomfortable. We watched the city in quiet unison, entranced by the fading sky and passing cars, the fast paced skyline spread out before us. 

Eventually, he turned to face me. The sky above was dark blue with a few beacons of light shining from it in spite of the city lights, and we were washed in a faint fluorescent glow. 

"Hey Cas?" He asked, and I felt warm with the familiarity of a nick name. 

"Yes" I said, turning to him. 

"Would you sing for me?"   
My heart stopped at the proposition, and yet somehow the contents of my veins and arteries found their way into my cheeks. 

"Why?" I asked shakily, genuinely unsure and afraid of someone hearing me again. 

"You asked earlier what kind of crap day I had..." He lifted the bottom of his shirt a bit to display a flare of red and purple, flesh bruised with the mark of fists still engraved into it. It was a mark of anger, swollen and bleeding, and it was all over his stomach. His face looked tentative, some part of him fearing I would be disgusted, run away. It was a look that seemed to know its way well around his face. 

"What happened?" I asked, gingerly stretching out my fingers to touch it out of instinct and sitting up. The feeling of the rocks left my back but suddenly it was my heart that was in pain at the thought of someone hurting this man, this boy, this gorgeous stranger. 

"The kids at school were shoving me around... A bi in a public high school should be a normal thing at this point, but despite this fact teenage boys seem to think deep back into the mindset of their biblical ancestors, ignore the fact that it's the 21st century, and beat the living shit out of me" he winced. "Sorry if that was oversharing" 

"No.. I can relate." I said, still gingerly resting my fingers on his bruised midsection. It was a flare of colors, honestly beautiful in its shades of purple,pink, and red, but it was a painting of pain.   
I traced the scar on my cheek with my fingers.   
" I got this from my dad, when I came out to him. Then," I said, lowering the neckline of my shirt to display another jagged, fresh scar, "my mom gave this one to me. They're all over my body, scars from my family, my flesh and blood, my siblings..." My voice cracked painfully and I felt emotion bubbling in me. I grit my teeth and hang my head low, avoiding deans wide-eyed gaze. 

I expected him to apologize, but instead I just felt his strong arms wrap around my body as he pulled me into a hug, enveloping me in the scent of cinnamon and musk and faintly, of blood. 

"How long ago?" He asks into my hair. 

"A year" my muffled voice told his Metallica t shirt. 

There was a pause. 

"Will you still sing for me?" His voice was that of a small child.

"Why?" I said, pulling back from the most affection I had felt in the last year, vaguely feeling the comfort of his warmth leave me. The fact that I had known Dean for an hour seemed irrelevant in light of our confessions, and I felt strangely comfortable, a warm glow surrounding the ever present dull pain in my heart.   
"  
it made me feel... So much better, hearing you sing. It was a reminder" he gulped, hesitating , looking up directly into my eyes, his breathtaking green enveloping my plain blue "that there's still beauty in this world"   
the sound of car horns and steady tires seemed far away now. 

" I've never sung for anyone" I confess in a small voice, biting my lip. 

" that's a pity" he chuckled lowly. " so many people are missing out" 

I Lean back a bit, away from him, steadying myself. 

Not being in such close proximity to him helps clear my mind of its thoughts, and my heart stops hammering in its ribcage quite so quickly. Ever since Dean had arrived it had been going at the pace of an asthmatic marathon runner, and I felt warmed by the thought of this gorgeous boy finding beauty in me, the queer, and even relating to me. I felt the slow warmth fill me like a steaming cup of tea. I closed my eyes, then opened them again, releasing a deep, jagged breath to the stars. 

"I've been upside down" I told to the gentle flickers of light. "I don't wanna be the right way round" I continued, the melody leaving my mouth stronger, louder, more sure of itself. "Can't find paradise on the ground" I drew out the last word, and it echoed into the river and the rocks. Time seemed to slow to the pace of a drugged snail, and I acutely felt deans eyes gently flicker over me. 

"All we do is hide away. All we do is chase the night and day. All I want to be is whites and waves" I continued, gulping in more oxygen as I lowered my head from the stars to his face, anxious of his verdict of my solo. I expected to find him looking at me or covering his ears, but I found my self surprised. 

He was simply sitting, eyes closed, curled comfortably by his side and smiling gently. The weary lines on his face weren't there anymore, and he looked painfully angelic, happy. 

"Can you sing another one?" He asked, and his voice seemed to be free of the burden it had carried before. His hands played lightly over the bruises on his stomach. 

I looked at him this time as I sang. My voice seemed to soothe him, and the slow circles his hands drew on his abdomen subconsciously started to slow. 

"You're the judge, oh no, set me free" 

My body leaned towards Dean as I finished, without the permission of my brain, and as I breathed out the last few words I could see my breath tickle his face and flutter his long, dark lashes. 

He opened his eyes and leaned his face up towards me, and he was suddenly so close I discovered that he had a multitude of freckles dancing on the skin stretched around his nose and cheekbones. 

"Thank you" he whispered to me, and we stood, frozen in that position for one tense moment before a heavy guitar riff filled the air.   
"That'd be my phone" Dean said,   
pulling back with a slow sigh as the familiar lines around his eyes gained their place on his face again. As he opened his phone with a sharp flip and Ieaned back into a normal sitting position, I remember what it had been like to see the lines on his face fade. My chest swelled as I thought that it was me who had brought him this comfort. 

"Sam, it's only like- oh cra-aaackers. It's late. Okay I'm coming home strait away I'm sorry" Dean was already pushing himself up onto steady feet and brushing the hairs out of his eyes and behind his ears. He flipped his phone shut. 

"Will I see you here again?" He asked, and I assured myself it was an overactive imagination that heard a plea in his voice. 

"I'm here nearly everyday" I said, a hint of unintentional but unmistakable bitterness in my voice. 

"May I have your number?" He asked, and I obliged, joining him in the standing position and typing the digits into his Worn phone. 

"I'm so sorry" he told me " but I have to get home to my brother. He's only 12 and I hadn't realized how late it is and I really don't like the thought of him all alone.." His voice rose in stress. "Can I give you a ride?" He offered. 

"That's fine" I replied simply. "Go" I told him, smiling and gently stroking his stomach where the bruises were. 

"Please stay safe" 

"You too" he called over his shoulder, already climbing the rocks to reach his brother. 

I leaned back onto the rocks once more, this time with the corners of my mouth turning up against my own free will and a thousand thoughts racing through my head.


	2. Chapter 2

The walk back to my apartment is short, and it's become such a regular part of me that my feet guide me rather than my mind, the steady pace on the cracked concrete making time with my heartbeat. 

My place was only a few blocks away and I soon found myself inserting my key into the hole and, with a satisfying metallic click, the door opened. The creaking groan of rusty door hinges echoed through the cramped room. 

Stepping in and shutting the worn wood behind me, I shrugged off my my trenchcoat onto a plastic hook and stepped on the soles of my combat boots, pulling them off. 

I found myself evaluating the room, a sudden trip down memory lane causing past moments to rise to the surface. 

A huge house, with warm rooms and a kitchen the size of my whole flat, that always smelled of my mothers latest homemade goodie. Never a moment of silence with all my family bustling about. Room after room after room, always a new passageway to be discovered by me and my mischievous siblings. 

Of course, that was before, and now I had... This. 

A kitchen jutting out from the main room, barely a square. All the appliances were accessible and within reach with a 180 degree rotation. 'Cramped' didn't even begin to describe it. 

The main room itself served as dining room, living room, and bedroom.   
It was fully decked out with items from garage sales and estate sales, crap other people hadn't wanted anymore. 

A couple of cardboard boxes with thrift store finds were crammed in the corner, and a thin mattress layed in another corner with a quilt and pillow haphazardly strewn on it. The only furniture was the plush armchair placed against a wall. It was covered in soft and inviting velvet but was missing a leg and therefor cast away. I simply stacked a few books where the leg should have been, and they served the purpose. 

Books. That was something I would never run out of. Save my mattress, chair, and clothes boxes, nearly every spot on the floor was covered in books, torn, ripped, old, but none the less mine, mingling with stacks of old CDs. Next to my bed lay a CD player, (you guessed it- garage sale find), and a bendy ikea light was clipped to the side of the armchair for good lighting. 

I sighed, dragging myself into the bathroom to brush my teeth. 

I went through the motions, scrub wash gargle spit, and placed my hands on the side of the sink to steady myself. 

I looked up into the mirror, suddenly feeling the need to evaluate every part of my life, from my apartment to my face. I felt strangely self conscious as I ran my long nimble fingers through a lock of my dark hair. My eyes, usually so blandly faded, seemed more electric. They were blue and framed in dark lashes, but more striking than their pale color was the lines around them, creases from countless laughs and smiles that mingled with the lines of stressful frowns. Underneath my eyelids were the ever-present bags, and below my left eye there was a scar. It started on my high cheekbone and found its way down to my lips, barely cutting the side of their pink surface. It was a white color, scar flesh, in contrast with my tanner skin. I noticed with surprise that I seemed to have a blush, making the scar more apparent. After a year of waving it off as a reminder of a car accident, the kids at school took it for granted, and never looked twice. 

I tilted my head and sighed. My face seemed distorted in the mirror, framed with a layer of grime no amount of Clorox was going to fix. I was so far out of the league of the boy I had met, but it had felt so good, freeing to be around him. His eyes hadn't lingered on the broken flesh on my face, and talking to him was natural. Not to mention he had heard me sing. Wanted it. 

I smiled to myself at the memory and laughed gently to no one in particular. 

Shaking my head of wistful thoughts, I let my feet lead me to my mattress where flannel pajama pants were hidden under the garage sale pillow. Quickly changing, I fell into the bed and fatigue mercifully delivered sleep to me in a matter of moments.


	3. Chapter 3

'Take my picture now... Shake it till you see it.. And when your fantasies, become your legacies, promise me a place in your house of memories'  
the sound of Brendan Urie's soothing voice is what drags me from my peaceful sleep. My head is filled with fog but none the less directs my fingers to my cell phone, where they press the 'ok' button and stop the song. 

A gentle sigh leaves my mouth, but after a year im trained to not linger in the inviting warmth of my bed, lest I miss school. 

A quick shower and pop tart later I'm out the door, thermos in hand and a backpack weighing down my shoulders. 

Pulling my trenchcoat tighter around me, my pace quickens in retaliation to the bitter morning wind. 

14 blocks left.   
My sleep addled brain focuses on nothing but the blurred pavement beneath me.

13 blocks.   
There's a plant growing tentatively through a sidewalk crack. It's a startling green against the pale brown surface that the cement was, and I was reminded of another beautiful green, this time the unrivaled green of a certain persons eyes.

12 blocks.   
I felt like singing, but the empty block was not enough of a motivation. Not that if a person was there I would have sang. Well, if a certain person was, maybe. 

11 blocks.   
I'd know him for an hour. I should not be this emotionally attached. 

10  
My mind was still stuck on the color green. 

9  
My fingers once more found their way through my wet hair. I exhaled deeply, glad that in the autumn air my breath was not yet visible. I felt the corners of my mouth become once more compelled to turn up as I remember Dean doing the same thing last night. 

8  
I remembered the situation that had caused his fingers to rake his hair and felt down immediately. His burden wasn't one that anyone should have to carry. Then again, I pondered, neither was mine.

7  
Life isn't fair. That's an apparent truth. 

6  
But somehow, I find myself feeling grounded around Dean. Like the cosmic mess that brought me into this situation doesn't matter. That all the misfortune in the world can't compare to the sound of his voice. It was strange, and my mind went from the topic of life's fairness to something possibly even deeper and more controversial 

5  
Soulmates. 

4  
It was the only logical explanation I could find. I had spent a year in physical and mental pain, with no aspect of my life in any way close to perfect. My family, financial situation, popularity, nothing seemed right. It was like God had taken my peaceful life and shook it like a snow globe and the glue that held it together had failed. As the snow in the globe wandered around I was flung about and shattered. 

3  
But suddenly, with an hour of simply being in the presence of one person, talking, confessing, singing, sitting in silence, the snow settled and the physical and mental pain that had become an ever present aspect of my life faded into the background and disappeared completely. 

2   
Alone, I could feel the lack of him next to me, and I let out a low chuckle, laughing at how hopeless my situation truly was. 

1  
"Hey!" It was a familiar voice that came from the body of a tall red head.   
"Hey Charlie" I said rather unenthusiastically.   
"Why the long face?" She asked, running to my side as the school came into sight, the view of literally thousands of students entering filling my vision.   
" just tired" I moaned, rubbing my scar subconsciously.   
Suddenly I remember the feel of deans breath tickling my lips, and I felt them turning up into a wide grin.   
I turned my head to face Charlie, who seemed rather shocked by my sudden change in facial expressions.   
"Okay, now why the short face?" She inquired, playfully shoving my shoulder with her own. 

0   
As I walked through the doors of the school, the sound of hundreds of chattering voices battering my eardrums, the smile remained on my face.   
"You may never know" I told Charlie and ran off to my locker.


	4. Chapter 4

It was 8:00, closing time, and I untied my apron, replacing it instead with my coat and backpack. I tossed the keys to Jo, the other barista who worked the all-day instead of my four to eight shift. She got Sunday's off, though, a luxery I couldn't afford. 

"Please lock up!" I called to her as I pushed the plastic doors open and lead myself onto the outside pavement. 

"You got it" she told my back and I turned to give her a friendly wave and a smile, which was, per usual, returned. 

It was a brief walk to the Potomac river, where a high fence and a 'No trespassing' sign prevented people from going to its bank. I crawled over the fence expertly with my backpack on my shoulders, in the way that only a person with a couple years of practice could. My feet found their way over rocks and pebbles, scruffy undergrowth wilting underfoot. The sound of cars grew slowly louder as I approached my spot. It was a perfect nook, with a view of the Alexandria skyline and the connecting bridge that I had dubbed 'the cliff'. The graffitied rocks were placed in a way that mostly prevented wind from reaching it, and enough street and city light reached it that I could do my homework with a little help from my flashlight. 

I had known of it for about 3 years at this point, and the flora and fauna were accustomed to my daily presence. So was my schedule: school, work, and Homework by the river until darkness fell and I returned home. 

Geometry and creative writing were my companion for about an hour before I closed my books with a loud smack, giving it a hard stare. 

"I have conquered and vanquished thee" I whispered at it as I returned it to my backpack. 

"You know, most people just say that they've finished their homework" came a familiar and welcome voice, and I felt a flood of domestic joy. 

"Too mainstream" I informed Dean as he climbed down the rocks by my side, taking the same position he had yesterday a few centimeters away from me. He laughed gently at my statement, a soft, low, gravelly noise I was sure was permanently and hopelessly engraved into my memory. 

"How long were you watching me anyway?" I asked him with narrowed eyes. 

"I wasn't. I just was climbing down here and was perfectly timed to watch you give your finished homework a freaking Shakespearean speech" he grinned at me, and once more I permanently placed the moment in my memory. 

" you should see the monologues I give my history homework" I told him.   
He laughed once again, the sound echoing off the rocks and into the warm air. 

"My brother Sammy does the same thing, actually. Not it Shakespearean, but still. He'll sometimes just stare for a while at his work and then give it some speech about how he's gonna finish it and... I guess personifying homeworks a thing now." 

"Oh yeah" I tell him. "It's all the rage"  
He smiles once more. 

"Sammy sounds great" I tell him. 

"Yeah" comes the reply. "You'll have to meet him one day."  
"  
That would be nice" I nod at him. I'm expecting a question about my siblings before I remember that I told him yesterday. And he seems to remember, too, because he doesn't breach the topic of family with me. 

" I have 9 siblings" I tell him. "Michael, Luci, Raphael, Uriel, Zach, Anna, Balthazar, Alfie, and Gabe, whose my favorite" 

"Wow" he exclaims. "That's a shit ton. You are going to have five billion nieces and nephews" 

we fall into comfortable conversation about nothing and everything, and before I know it I'm leaning my head against his shoulder, my eyes drooping dangerously. 

"You know" I tell him drowsily "I don't really know much about you" 

"That's a lie" his voice informs me, head turning to frown at me. "You know my age, school, family, history.." 

"I don't know your last name" I told him, sleepily smiling at him before lifting my head from the comfortable crook of his shoulder, suddenly realizing what an invasion of personal space it was. He seemed to tense the moment I broke contact, missing the sensation of my hair brushing his neck, but I once more accused my overactive imagination. 

"Winchester" he told me. "Happy?" It wasn't irritated sounding, more of a tease. 

"No" I told him. "I'd still like to get to know you better" 

"It's a bit late" Dean whispered to me, gesturing at the stars scattered across the sky. 

I began to open my mouth but he quickly continued before I could intercede, the low sound of his voice sending pleasant shudders down me.   
"There's nothing on this planet I would love to do more than lie here and talk to you about everything and name stars and just be around you but I do have Sammy" he sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck, whether out of embarrassment that he'd said what classified as a 'chick flick' statement or concern that I would judge him for wanting to care for his brother. 

"Of course" I told him. "Winchester" I added. 

"See? We've already got a solid start" he told me with a shy grin, removing his hand from the nape of his neck and letting it hang loosely at his sides. "Will you be here Tommorow?" He asked. 

"Maybe. Since it's Friday my shift at the cafe goes until 11:30. It normally closes at 8:00 but they have this open talent thing where you can sing or read poetry and I'm always there, serving coffee and pastries until the end. Hipsters tip surprisingly nicely"  
I told him, and this time it was me engaging in a nervous tick, which was, for me, chewing on my chapped lips. 

"So you'll be exhausted" he said in a disappointed tone. For the third time I mentally cursed my over active imagination, which told me Deans gorgeous eyes were focusing on my lips as my teeth slowly chewed at them.

"Yeah" I told him, glad he understood. "But my Saturday shift ends at 7:00. Could we perhaps hang out after that?"

"ok." Came his reply, and my heart felt like it was flying as I thought of seeing him again. "I'll set Sammy up with a sleepover or something so we can talk for longer"

"That sounds fantastic" I told him, and he sat up. There was a slight indent in his jacket from where the rock had been digging into it for the past hour and an unnoticed autumn leaf stuck to the back of his hair.   
I smiled gently and, instinctually, leaned in millimeters away from him and let my nimble fingers run through the soft strands of his hair to pull out the vibrant leaf. 

He let out a small gasp and I felt the breath on my cheeks as I realized how close we were, his nose brushing mine and green eyes centimeters from my own blue ones.  
I pulled my hand back and held the leaf up to his face, leaning away shakily. 

"Look what got stuck" I smiled, still awefully close to him, to the point where I could count every freckle. 

"Beautiful" Dean breathed out, and my eyes fell on the leaf as I realized he was right, the red, purple, and orange all smeared together with subtle hints of green. 

"Yeah" I breathed back at him, but I realized his eyes weren't on the leaf but me, his eyes tracing my eyes, cheekbones, lips, and scar as he let the compliment into the air. 

I trembled slightly and my brain ceased to function as his face drew slowly closer and his hand came to rest on my face, his fingers cupping my jaw. I was fairly certain that Dean could hear my hearts attempts to exit my chest with every quickening beat. 

The scent of cigarette smoke suddenly hit our nostrils and several rowdy voices were heard. 

We both leaned back instinctually, turning our heads to see the small group of smokers making their way down here. 

"Oh yeah" I muttered. "I remember this from when I used to sleep here" 

I don't know why I said it. I suppose my brain was addled from what might have been, jittery from the feeling of deans fingers on my jaw, which had since left. I only said the first thing that came to mind, and I automatically regretted the words.   
Dean gave me a strange sidelong look but stood up, grabbing my backpack and offering me a hand.   
I took it and he heaved me up, handing me the pack. 

"Let's go" he told me, and I obliged, following him, guided by his footfalls under the fluorescent lights. We began to walk past the group, who looked to drunk to stand, much the less smoke by a river. 

We were nearly past them when one of them grabbed Dean's arm, which prompted a little whimper and a look of pure, unadulterated pain from Dean, who nearly crumpled. 

"Damn" the curvy woman said in a low voice. " the hotties got quite the low bar for pain tolerance." 

"Dean" I said in a small, desperate voice, running towards him out of concern and confusion. 

The woman drew out a long puff of vile smoke as she shrugged her shoulders and continued to walk with her group. 

"What's wrong?" I asked of Dean, who still looked highly pained. His face was crumpled up like a paper napkin. "It didn't look like she grabbed your arm that hard" I was surprised- Dean seemed like a masculine type, and no grip was strong enough to make anyone experience as much pain as Dean looked to be in. 

He simply let a large gasp of air out. 

"Oh god" I muttered aloud. "Okay" 

I began pulling Dean's jacket off, pulling off the right sleeve first before gingerly pulling at the left one, where the woman had grabbed him. Dean cooperated half heartedly, and I pulled off the worn leather completely, leaving his arms bare and the jacket crumpled in my arms. T  
here was a shocked silence. 

"My god" I breathed once more, and my fingers reached out to gently hold his arm, my fingers stroking the surface. 

It looked like a painting, angry red and purple fading into each other. It was swollen and tender, and the gentle striking of my fingers seemed to pain him. It was the same intense bruising I remembered had been on his stomach the previous day. I released his arm. 

"Goddamnit, I told you to stay safe" 

Dean simply shook his head. "Harder than it looks" he replied in a downtrodden voice. 

"What happened?" I asked tentatively, afraid of the answer. 

"Indian rug burn" Dean let out in a low hiss of pain, straitening up.   
"Grabbed my arm, twisted one part one way and the other part the other" he gasped, still in pain. 

"Why do you let them do this to you?" I asked, eyes tracing the bulging muscles on his arm that could easily take on any jackass or bully. 

"I don't want to talk about it" his voice sounded broken. 

"Okay" I replied unobtrusively, still extraordinarily curious and worried. My blood was practically boiling and a protective part of me reared up, telling me to find the boys who had done this and give them the beating of a lifetime. 

"Good" he said, and I could see him closing off. He composed his face, the physical pain leaving but the sharp hurt in his eyes remaining. I handed him the jacket, our fingers brushing electrically with the trade off. 

"I have some cream for that shit" I told him as he shrugged the leather back onto his lithe frame. 

"Huh?" 

"I have some cream that helps with the pain and makes it heal faster" I told him, fingers subconsciously tracing the scar on my face. 

"That would be fantastic. It's a new pain in a new place every day" his voice seemed close to cracking. 

"You sure you don't want to talk?" I asked him, and we were walking once more under the yellow glow, out footprints unsteadily bobbing over jagged rocks.

"Maybe later" he sighed, and he seemed tired, broken, cracked. It hurt me to see him like this.


	5. Chapter 5

It was 10:30, and the stream of people had calmed, no new entries save for a few stragglers who mostly looked like they needed a cup of coffee. 

Every stool and plush arm chair the café had to offer was filled, and a few people even sat on the carpet, cups of steaming drinks and pastries balancing precariously on their legs.   
Despite the overflow of people it was very quiet, the only noise the sound of gentle sipping and the strong voice of a woman who sat up front. She was reciting a poem, and the people watching fell into respectful silence as they always did for the talent that presented itself on stage. 

"And then" she told the hushed audience, 

"It broke" 

I stopped carrying my tray for a moment, placing it on the counter so I could clap in appreciation. 

"Castiel" came Jo's low hiss. "There are like 3 people waiting to be served" 

I stopped immediately, expressing my appreciation instead with a small smile and picking up the tray again. 

I wandered around the room purposefully, delivering food and giving checks. 

The room was filled with the wonderful aroma of baked goods, with a slight coffee undertone. My stomach grumbled its concern, and I silently willed it to shut up as I grabbed a soft chocolate muffin from behind the counter. 

As I brought the muffin to a slightly pudgy goateed man in a flannel, the warmth in the room was cut by a chilly breeze that came with the sound of the glass door being flung open. 

The man up front, currently reading an excerpt from his unpublished book, gave the disturber a glare before returning to his monologue.   
I left the man with his muffin and looked up at the person who had entered. 

The breath seemed to knock itself from my lungs and I steadied myself from the shock that gripped me. 

"Dean?" I asked, walking over to his figure at the door. 

"Cas" he smiled, and it was the most beautiful sight in the world, his eyes crinkling up and his strait white teeth on full display. 

"Shhhhh!" Came a call from the audience, and I placed a finger on my lips to symbolize that he needed to be quiet. 

The rush of cold air that had entered with Dean had dissipated, and the room was warm once more, cozy and protective from the autumn breeze. 

I lead Dean to an empty spot of plush carpet and silently motioned that he sit down. He raised a singular eyebrow at me, and I raised one in return, asking him silently what he was doing here and how he found me. 

He only smiled and cocked his head the tiniest bit. 

I smiled back, and I was sure it was the heat of the room that brought a blush into my cheeks. 

"That's all I have for now" finished the man up front, and the room filled once more with applause and gentle chatter.   
"  
Dean," I began, but his voice quickly cut through mine, and once more the low gravely noise sent pleasant shivers down my spine. 

"I'm here because Saturday was too long to wait." He told me, and I felt my heart flying in my ribcage. "And I found you by searching local cafes with open mic nights on Friday. This happened to be the only one, making the job of tracking you down significantly easier"

"Dean..." I tried again, and this time my voice went uninterrupted. " I don't know what to say" and I truly didn't. All my useless mouth could do was turn up in a wide smile. 

"How about, nice to see you, Dean. Anything you want? Pie? Sure, coming right up." The words were a tease, not a demand, but I none the less turned away from him on shaky legs and walked to the counter, feeling extraordinarily self conscious of my every move. 

"Who's that smoking piece of ass?" Asked Jo bluntly, her eyes focused on Dean, who was sitting down on the small section of carpet I had lead him to and focusing his eyes on the performer before him. 

I didn't look at her but instead focused on the pie in the display case behind the counter as if it was the most interesting thing in the universe. 

"It's Dean" I said, my hands grabbing a slice of apple pastry between a napkin. 

"He's hot" she muttered to herself, grinding some decadent coffee beans with long, purposeful strokes. 

"Yep" I said, and I felt the strange sensation of jealousy take grip on my chest and squeeze it uncomfortably as I placed the pie on a plate. 

I walked out from behind the counter and over to Dean, my combat boots feeling strangely unsteady below me. 

I lay a gentle finger on his shoulder and he jumped slightly under the unexpected touch. 

"Hey there" I whispered to him, so as not to disturb the performer as I handed him his slice of pie. 

His tongue ran over his plush lips as he eyed the pie with a look that was almost lust. 

"Thanks" 

I laughed softly, and his wide eyes looked up at me. 

"What?" He asked innocently, and I felt another laugh bubble in my chest. 

"You look like you're eyeing the love of your life" I told him. 

"Well, it's pie, man! There's nothing better. Well," he said after a pause, re evaluating his words as he looked at me with a small grin. "Almost nothing better" 

Once more I felt my face burn red and my mind went blank, frantically scrambling for words. My heart was experiencing a sensation that could only be described as soaring, pure elation. 

He only looked at me, waiting for a response. When my lips still provided none, his fingers tugged at my the sleeve of my faded old navy sweater, motioning for me to join him on the floor. 

I looked back at Jo for affirmation only to find her staring at me, gaping, eyes wide. 

'Boyfriend?' She mouthed with over exaggeration. 

I shook my head subtly before sitting down next to Dean on the warm carpet, mimicking his Indian chief style position so that our knees brushed. 

His eyes remained on the performer as they dramatically acted out their final words, but a small complacent sigh left his lips, undetectable to all but me. 

His hands slowly began clapping, and I snapped out of my reverie, realizing I had been staring at him. 

I, too, began clapping, and Gary, or manager, replaced the performer. 

"Okay" he called into the crowd. 

"Who would like to perform next?"   
And in an instant, Deans fingers were wrapped around my wrist, lifting my arm into the air. 

"Cas here would love to" he offered me, and suddenly I realized the room was much too hot as several pairs of eyeballs turned to face me. The blood stopped in my veins as my heart took a pause that was much too long. My eyebrows furrowed together, my heart suddenly gaining the ability to function again and threatened to escape my chest with hard, fast beats. It felt as though pure adrenaline was rushing through my veins.

My first instinct was  
No no no no no. Nono NoNO NO NO.   
These were people I would probably see again, people I knew. These were people. With ears. A lump nestled its way in my throat. 

But then I turned to look at Dean, who's face was one of pride and love as he grinned at me expectantly. Our eyes met and I calmed down almost immediately. 

'You can do it' his electrifying green pupils seemed to say, and he pulled me up, releasing my wrist. 

I was now standing, and, without realizing it, my feet were guiding the rest of my body across the sea of people to the mic. 

"Well... Castiel" came the voice of my manager. "I didn't know one of our own had a hidden talent"   
I simply nodded, the lump in my throat growing. 

"I'm" I choked into the mic, staring at the sea of expectant eyes before me.   
"I'm Castiel Novak" I told them, and their eyes continued to stare at me, poking, prodding, judging. I found the only eyes I wanted to see. 

"I'm going to be singing for you today" I told Dean, focusing on his comforting face as opposed to the expectant ones that filled the room. 

"Oh ms believer" my voice entered the mic. The lump that had settled in the back of my throat melted away but my heart rate spiked. My eyes never left Deans, and I was sure that if I looked away from his face I would choke or puke. 

"My pretty weeper" I drew strength from his face. His eyes were no longer open, but hidden behind the backs of his lids. His mouth was curled up in a gentle and subconscious smile, and he looked just the way he had when I sung to him at the cliff. Like everything was alright in the world. Like a small child being sung a lullaby. 

These were all the things I focused on as I sang. 

"Your twisted thoughts, are like snow on the road. Your shaking shoulders, prove that it's colder, inside your head, than the winter of dead" my body rocked slightly with every note and my voice grew in strength, echoing in the hushed room. Out of my peripheral vision I saw that every one had stilled, hanging onto my every note. 

"We grow co-o-older... As we grow o-o-older... I will wa-alk...so much slower..." I closed my eyes with the final line, pretending I was home alone and not surrounded by dozens of attentive coffee house hipsters. 

My eyes opened and I took in the masses staring at me with dumbfounded expressions. Then, the tense, awed silence was broken by a cat whistle from the back of the room. The room erupted into raucous applause and I tried to find it in me to smile. My whole body was shaking, and I was scared down to the core like a hunted piece of prey. 

"Fantastic!" Shouted an unrecognizable voice, and my eyes found their way to Dean, who was giving me a standing ovation. 

'Good job' he mouthed. 

I felt a hand on my shoulder and turned to see my manager giving me an inquisitive look. 

"That was quite something, Castiel. Where'd you learn to sing like that?" I merely shrugged, still feeling vaguely like this was one big dream. I very nearly pinched myself. 

"Well, it's 11:32" Gary said into the mic. "So on that beautiful note, it's time for you all to head out" he turned to face me. "And Castiel" he said, "don't stay to lock or clean up. That boy there looks like he wants to talk to you." He tilts his head in Deans direction and winks as the people start placing their dishes on empty tables, throwing on their coats, and filing out of the door.


End file.
